A dark Journey into the light is an interesting and thought provoking read for anyone who has questioned urges and desires familiar to us all. I spent sixty years of my life in “limbo” trying to understand what was driving me to explore every fantasy I could find. We all enjoy sex but the book provides interesting insights into the workings of the mind of a sex addict. We are much more than what we feel, and less than what we think. This book explores what is possible when we find balance between the two. This is not a story of finding redemption through “finding God”. It’s simply the story of finding myself.
My head is a constant flow of internal dialogue (thinking) and it never stops. None of it is good, and some of it is downright poisonous. I’m not talking about measuring the curtains. I’m talking about the endless, mindless chatter that goes on of its own accord and never stops. And that is what I’m listening to whether I’m aware of it or not.
The only way to become aware of it is to try and stop it. That’s when I see how constant it is and how much nonsense it dribbles. It’s a drip-feed of insanity and it’s been going on for a long time. But life seems to work somehow, so why is it a big deal?
The problem is that from a very early age I was told how to think and feel through repetition and even punishment. I was dragged away from my true heart feelings and my connection with higher mind.
I fought back but as a child, you don’t stand a chance. My opposition eventually crumbled and I learnt to conform but in doing so, I turned my back on the soul connection I was born with. That’s a huge price and that’s why it’s a big deal.
I soon learnt to rely on my thinking for guidance because it was all I had left, and I gave it the power to rule my life. Once I gave in and gave it that power, it was “all over”.
But in spite of the best efforts of my thinking, and the conformist world I live in, something deep inside my heart persists.
I call it “me” but it cannot be defined by my thinking, so what is it? I call it many things such as “being” or “essence” or even “soul”, but whatever I call it, it is the residue of what I was born with which my thinking shut me off from. It is my “heart center” where my feelings are generated. Or should be. And that’s where the big deal gets ugly.
My thinking generates feelings for me. It steps into the void and creates an emotional laboratory where it develops a whole range of feelings for me to use. But even after it does that, I won’t get to choose my feelings for myself. My thinking does that for me. Let’s look at one example.
When I’m angry, and if by some miracle I can stop the endless flow of words pouring through my head, the anger dissipates.
Why should my anger dissipate just because I stop thinking about it?
Isn’t that a clue?
But I rarely question my anger. There is no room to question it because it’s being constantly fueled by every justification my thinking can come up with to keep it on the boil and trap me in it.